


Catalyst

by robotsdance



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 18:33:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2398580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotsdance/pseuds/robotsdance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal had been so focused on the poetry of dismantling Will’s mind that he hadn’t given the proper attention to the potential magnificence of Will’s unraveling body. He will not make that mistake again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catalyst

Will works Hannibal’s cock like he’s riding his favourite sex toy. A dildo he keeps buried in his nightstand perhaps, or maybe in a box (with an ex’s name on it for plausible deniability) in his closet. Based on the finesse with which Will has taken control of their current activities, Hannibal is certain he is well-versed in this particular brand of self-pleasure. As much as Hannibal enjoys the mental image of Will getting himself off with a silicone dick, it’s flattering that Will chose to use him instead.

The practise has clearly paid off. Will knows exactly what he’s doing, riding out the sensations, searching for the motions that make his body writhe with satisfaction and doing everything in his power to experience them to the fullest. It’s refreshing. Hannibal had feared Will might be shy. 

Will is straddling Hannibal, rocking his hips ever so slightly so that Hannibal moves precisely inside him. Will’s eyes are closed in complete submission to the pleasure he’s wringing out of himself. He lifts his ass enough so that Hannibal slowly slides out of him but remains pressed against his entrance until Will sinks back down. Will repeats these motions, reliving the exquisite moment of penetration and the tiny agony of loss until he is holding his breath without realizing it. Will exhales and takes Hannibal all the way inside once again, grinding down in small, purposeful circles before relishing in a languid journey up and down Hannibal’s entire length. 

Hannibal is reasonably confident Will knows where he is and what he’s doing right now, but there’s always the chance he’ll open his eyes, take a dazed look around and follow it up with “My name is Will Graham, it’s 9:45 and… you’re inside me?” Hannibal wonders if this very possibility was a factor in Will’s decision to show up at his door with lube and condoms (still in their drugstore bag) in his jacket pocket. Some broken version of harm reduction in action, perhaps.

Will could have opted for a much more anonymous encounter. He would not have had much difficulty finding another person to fuck him tonight. Hell, he could charge guys for what he’s doing to Hannibal right now, if he was so inclined. But Will Graham, unpredictable, beautiful mess that he is, wanted this. Not that Hannibal is complaining. Hannibal wonders if he will bother to explain himself during their next session. Will had kissed Alana in desperation when he knew she was aware he was hallucinating. Hannibal tingles as he considers the endless variables that may have led Will to visit him with such singular intentions.

Of course, Hannibal had let Will seduce him (the phrase “potentially unethical” sounded positively filthy dripping from Will’s lips). Hannibal made sure Will thought he was in control of the situation, as he does when it is important for Will to think he’s still capable of such a thing. And Will had done remarkably well, not showing his whole hand until he was panting against Hannibal’s shoulder, his fists clenched tightly in the fabric of Hannibal’s shirt as he struggled to articulate himself beyond a gloriously desperate “I need-”

Hannibal had given Will’s fragmented statement the air it needed to breathe, letting Will fully occupy the liminal space between them, before replying kindly, “You are always welcome to take what you need from me Will.”

Now Will is a whimpering mess of arousal and surrender as he arches his back and grips his own ass with his sturdy hands. Hannibal considers offering to take over this particular task, but Will clearly has his desires well in hand. Though Hannibal knows his enjoyment is a mere afterthought to Will right now, he’s working hard to not be overcome by the gift he’s being given. He is, after all, occasionally almost human and everything about this feels good. Will hot around his dick, Will’s intoxicating primal self on full display, the absolute trust Will has in him, it’s a dozen new variations of Will Graham he hadn’t even known he wanted. 

Hannibal strives to keep his hands off Will, as he fears that might disrupt the wondrous spectacle of self-gratification going on above him. At first Hannibal tucks his hands behind his head, but firmly gripping at his own hair isn’t enough to distract him from the way Will has braced himself against the headboard for better leverage. Hannibal changes his tactics, twisting his hands into the fine sheets as he swallows the urge to put his hands around Will’s neck.

Words have long since deserted Will in favour of soft pleading sounds and low moans that seem to come from somewhere deep within him. Hannibal wants to follow the sounds back to where they began so that he knows where best to claim them.

Will covered in a sheen of sweat with his hair sticking to his forehead as he practically sobs with lust is every bit as captivating as Will covered in someone else’s blood fighting to get enough air back into his lungs. Hannibal merges these two Wills in his mind and for a small eternity he is overrun by the image of a blood-soaked Will Graham riding him with abandon. The fact that this vision feels within the realm of possibilities brings Hannibal closer to completion than he cares to be right now.

Instead he refocuses on the Will consuming him at present. If the man who showed up at his door tonight was looking for something to anchor him to reality, Hannibal has failed him spectacularly. He made no effort to anchor him when Will dragged his hands down Hannibal’s torso, tracing his thumbs over Hannibal’s hip bones as he silently dared Hannibal to stop him and he continues to make no effort to anchor him now, as Will lightly grazes his fingers across his own erection. Hannibal wants to see him reach the stratosphere and he is fantastically close. The universe itself seems to stir inside Will Graham. Hannibal can smell the dust of creation in him.

Hannibal knows he should start prioritizing his own release soon, but he doesn’t want to miss a single moment of Will’s undoing. He had been so focused on the poetry of dismantling Will’s mind that he hadn’t given the proper attention to the potential magnificence of Will’s unraveling body. He silently scolds himself for not foreseeing the splendour of Will breaking apart at the seams with Hannibal inside him. Hannibal half-expects to have to stitch him back together afterwards, piece by piece. Hannibal enjoys this thought very much.

When Will restarts the cycle of little nudging thrusts of his hips Hannibal knows he is getting close. His hole is exceptionally snug around Hannibal’s dick and his face is taut with concentration. Will is actively clinging to the brink now, pulling away from Hannibal ever so slightly and rocking his hips in small, sharp movements. Will fights to take Hannibal deeper again but can’t, edging himself away from him in a frenzy of urgent little bounces until Hannibal is just barely inside him. Another day Hannibal might have been tempted to slam himself back into Will to override his senses, maybe force his eyes to fly open and bring him crashing back to reality, but today Hannibal wants to see how this ends on Will’s terms.

Whether it’s Will’s orgasm that causes him to clench and lift himself off Hannibal’s cock or the moment Hannibal slips out entirely that triggers his release, Hannibal will never know for sure. Will twists and gasps as he comes, collapsing forward to catch himself messily with his hands on Hannibal’s chest. Will trembles as he strains for air, his eyes still closed, still blind to everything but the starlight inside him.

Hannibal wants to etch this image to the inside of his eyelids.

Will doesn’t roll off Hannibal so much as he crumbles, hitting the mattress in a heap of boneless limbs. He lands with one of his arms haphazardly strewn across his face and he makes no effort to move, no effort to acknowledge Hannibal is there at all. Hannibal figures it is unlikely that Will’s behaviour is linked to shame or embarrassment as it is a little late for such things. No, Will is fighting to stay within the merciful rush of self-inflicted oblivion he had been craving.

Hannibal wants to untangle every part of Will and bully his way back inside his oversensitive body, everything tight and raw after his orgasm. Hannibal delights in the idea of Will submitting to him this way, giving Hannibal permission to use his spent body for his own end. Hannibal imagines pinning Will’s wrists to the bed with one hand and using the other to grab Will’s jaw, forcing him to watch intently as Hannibal overwhelms every dimension of him. Hannibal wonders what sort of sounds would escape Will under such delicious circumstances, but he thinks better of it and tucks the thought away for a rainy day.

Hannibal is still hard and despite their physical proximity, Will is out of reach. Hannibal feels surprisingly far away from the man whose semen is cooling on his stomach. In an effort to feel useful and allow Will a moment to collect himself, Hannibal gets up to dispose of the condom. When he returns a minute later to offer him a damp washcloth, he finds Will to be fast asleep, still sprawled in the ridiculous position Hannibal last saw him in.

Will naked and lost to the world on a mess of bedsheets is certainly less structured than any of Hannibal’s carefully posed murder tableaus but the effect is no less striking. Hannibal takes the time to commit the image to memory, determined to absorb every detail and make it a part of him. Only when Hannibal is certain he can map everything from the folds in the sheets to the shadows framing Will’s body does he pull himself away and head towards the shower.

There Hannibal feasts on every vivid detail of Will Graham his mind can conjure until he finally arcs through his release as hot water rinses Will from his skin.


End file.
